


The Pressure of 'Should'

by wildeisms



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 16:09:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12136140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildeisms/pseuds/wildeisms
Summary: "I wish I could hate you."Tumblr prompt for mecholah/KLStarre.





	The Pressure of 'Should'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KLStarre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KLStarre/gifts).



> This is my first time writing Good Omens so if my characterisation is wonky I apologise.

“I wish I could hate you.”

“Huh?” Crowley hummed, looking up from the book - alright, the back cover of the book - he had picked up from one of Aziraphale’s many, many shelves. 

“I should hate you,” Aziraphale repeated, and if one were to overhear and lacked the ability to understand, they might think he was discussing the weather or some equally bland, mundane subject of little consequence to anyone. 

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “And what am I supposed to have done this time?” 

“It’s not- You are a demon, in case you’ve forgotten. You have done and will most likely continue to do plenty of downright horrible things.”

“I thought we had an arrangement.” That was what they called it, at least. The precise nature of their... thing was one which no word in no language could ever fully describe. Or at least none of the words that Crowley knew of could describe it. Which was quite a lot of words, so he felt fairly confident in saying there were none quite up to the task. It was, in one of Aziraphale’s favourite words, ineffable.

“We do, and that’s beside the point. Above-”

There it was. Crowley rolled his eyes with a deep sigh and put the book down (probably in the wrong place, which Aziraphale wouldn’t appreciate. But that was also beside the point. In fact, it wasn’t even beside the point, it was a total and complete detour from it. If the point were, say, London, the annoyance of a misplaced book was all the way in Blackpool). 

“Angel, in case  _you_  forgot, being a servant of Above doesn’t mean you have to do everything exactly how Above thinks it should be done and be everything Above wants you to be.”

“That is precisely what ‘servant’ means.”

“Okay, bad start. My point is you don’t hate me, do you?”

“No, but-”

“So there you go. No ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t’ about it.” With that, he crossed the small room in two strides and kissed Aziraphale on the lips. “You can’t hate me and you’ve got no choice about it. It’s ineffably inevitable.”

“You’re infuriating. I think I do actually hate you,” Aziraphale said, but Crowley had known him long enough to recognise that look in his eye.

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” he agreed, and this time when they kissed, it was Aziraphale who closed the distance between them.


End file.
